


Filthy Casual

by Ezlebe



Series: .tv/FirstOrder [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Twitch Streamer, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6211960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezlebe/pseuds/Ezlebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I – I really didn’t expect this kind of response,” Kylo says, his featureless mask glancing between an over excited, emoji-filled chat and the webcam, and even his voice modifier can’t hide his hesitation. “I set the goal high enough that – No, no, I’m not backing out. I simply didn’t think people would pay $50,000 just to see my face.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For background: Kylo Ren has made his fame by being very good and very gimmicky, while Hux is an ex-Starcraft pro.

_‘Hux’ >>_

_‘Hux’ >>_

_‘Are you there’ >>_

_‘I’m serious you want to answer to me right now’ >>_

Hux glares hard at the pop up. It inconveniently covers up the corner of his current project, and he wonders if blocking Phasma would just lead to her outright calling him. 

_‘This is serious’ >> _

_‘Kylo is taking off his mask for xtra-life’ >>_

Hux stares at the words, uncomprehending their meaning for a long moment and leaving the mouse hovering over the pop up. He exhales slowly and goes for the keyboard; taking a two-minute break won’t put him too far behind.

_< <‘No he’s not. It would ruin that absurd attempt at mystique.’_

_‘Are you watching on mute?’ >>_

Hux glances over at his TV, hating Phasma for her insight, and reaches over for his remote to unmute the stream. Kylo’s paused playing completely, his hundredth playthrough of Metro apparently being less important than paying out for his stretch goals, and has the full screen webcam up.

“I – I really didn’t expect this kind of response,” Kylo says, his featureless mask glancing between an over excited, emoji-filled chat and the webcam, and even his voice modifier can’t hide his hesitation. “I set the goal high enough that – No, no, I’m not backing out. I simply didn’t think people would pay $50,000 just to see my face.”

Hux hums in disbelief, wheeling his chair backward and grabbing his controller. He quickly double-taps the home button and then the stick to bring up his friends, proceeding to type out a message to Kylo that he’ll hopefully read off-screen. A few minutes later he’s rewarded with a soft, irritated huff, and the mask looking right at the webcam. 

“Thank you for your generous patronage, General,” Kylo says, his voice returning to that low, smug tone. “But you’re half the reason I’m so wary to begin with.”

Hux frowns, letting the controller fall into his lap. Does he really come off so superficial? He hates Kylo for his stupid, dramatic personality and inhuman reflexes, not his potentially ghastly face or shrill voice. 

“I think I said that wrong,” Kylo says, shaking his head at the suddenly inflamed chat and leaning back in his chair. “I don’t want –  No one spam his channel or anything. Seriously. He doesn’t deserve all that just because he hates fun and apparently watches my streams with a pseudonym.”

Hux rolls his eyes, sending him another message. He watches the stream intently, able to the determine the precise moment that Kylo sees the message by an up-ticking gesture of his chin.

“Fine, fine, General Hux has issued his orders,” Kylo mutters, setting down his controller and reaching upward toward the mask. “For the kids. Or whatever.”

Hux all but actually leans in, curious despite himself as the mask slowly raises. First visible is a surprisingly long mane of black hair as the mask is tipped forward, then an emerging face that is neither scarred nor hideously malformed.

In fact, it is positively  _familiar_. 

“You bastard,” Hux exclaims, only realizing how much his voice must have raised when Kylo –  _Ren Organa, Apt 29A, Mr I Have Tantrums at 4AM_ – smirks onscreen.

“Any questions? I don’t want to keep the mask off for too long. It’s quickly becoming uncomfortable to look at,” Ren says, running a hand through his hair with a small grimace twisting at his mouth. He looks right into the camera a moment later, narrowing his eyes, “I’ll leave it until my guest arrives, so take your screenshots now.”

Hux glances over at the work waiting on his computer, at the open Skype and Phasma’s endless, mocking messages detailing various versions ‘ _You are so fucked_ ’, and stands, barely remembering to grab his keys and phone as he marches straight out his front door. He takes a deep, calming breath when he steps up to the entrance of Apt 29A, then pounds on the door with as much irritation as he can convey through an object made of 2” steel. 

It takes entirely too long for Ren to open up, despite the fact he’s less than thirty feet away and  _waiting_ , and when he does, he’s back to wearing that superior little smirk that Hux hates so much. He should’ve known the day Ren moved in; no one other than Kylo would dare be so dismissive of his anger within moments of meeting.

“Hux, good evening,” Ren says, then purses his lips for a moment and tips his head. “Or good morning, I imagine.”

“What the hell? Is this some kind of – of senseless plot against my sanity?” Hux says, narrowing his eyes and watching an amused expression play across Ren’s tired face. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No,” Ren says, turning around and leaving the door wide open, clearly inviting Hux in as he’d advertised on the stream. 

Hux scowls, slamming shut the door behind him and following Ren to his set up, conveniently tucked against the wall just across from Hux’s own. It’s expectedly untidy and enviously custom, image completed by some new project strewn just out of facecam-view on one side of the desk. 

Hux drifts to the side, drawn to a set of practically ancient figures displayed on the far side of the room. Each one is in some sort of action pose, complete with weapon, and slightly yellowed with age, but none show even a spec of dust from negligence. They must also be worth something, since Ren is clearly watching Hux out of the corner of his eye, even as he picks up his mask and rotates it in front of the webcam.

Despite a needlessly detailed explanatory post Kylo made last year, people seem eternally confused about the functionality of the mask. It’s all rather ingenious, really, but Hux would never say that to him, and is even less likely to now. 

“Yes, the speakers are soldered into the side,” Ren says, resetting the mask onto his head with a short, practiced twist. He hums, next, “Oh, you mean my mystery guest. Yes, they’re here.”

Hux shakes his head shortly, uneager to be dragged into Kylo’s legitimately fanatical viewer-base. Ren gestures with his chin, once, twice, until the power of second-hand embarrassment finally gets to Hux and he reluctantly steps over, grimacing tightly as he leans down in front of to the facecam with a half-hearted wave, trying not to lean too close to Ren. He feels naked, realizing too late that he’s wearing little more than a thin top and ratty pajama bottoms.

The chat can’t seem to decide between freaking out about Hux, and by extension his state of dress, and trying to get Ren to take his mask back off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux frowns, then glares at the twenty more results notification when he hasn’t even finished blocking these people. “How is it that simply being in the same room – “
> 
> “At 3am,” Phasma adds, raising her eyebrows pointedly. “In sleep clothes. Being called his special guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kylo = when he's wearing the helmet/referred to as his persona; ren = the rest of the time.

“Someone really has a hard-on for Kylo,” Phasma says, leaning over Hux’s shoulder and pointing at the screen. Her smirk is just barely visible from this angle, and Hux has to bury the urge to shrug swiftly enough that she clacks her teeth.

 **[jag0ff]** @general_hux I hope you get dumped so I can watch @kylo videos again he actualy knos what hes doing

 **[jag0ff]** @general_hux you call youself a pro and cant even keep up with @kylo

 **[jag0ff]** @kylo at least now we know why you do so many shitty collabs with @general_hux

Hux rolls his eyes and clicks the block button, as he’s been doing with the last thousand or so other imbeciles. He hasn’t even clicked the tab to his YouTube channel yet, but he can only imagine what inaccurate comments on his skill are written there, and how many are written by Kylo.

“They all do, it seems,” Hux says, pressing the _45 new results_ button and allowing the feed to jump another few pages. Most of the mentions are little more than passive threats, but a few are genuinely disturbing.

 **[ilenamoskva]** @general_hux now I kno who I have to get thru to make him available )))

 **[br34dw1nn3r]** @kylo @general_hux dudes.s no. this must b a misunderstanding gross

 **[dakylo]** general hux is so skinny I could take him

 **[K9Catty]** @kylo you’re so cute!!! <33 you could do so much better than a soulless Imperialist like general hux :(

Hux almost rolls his eyes; refer to the United States as the Colonies _once_ , and suddenly he's Cecil Rhodes.

“So they’re fans, but don’t know you already stream with him?” Phasma says, standing straight and crossing her arms with a look of revulsion. “Wait, did you get them this bad before?”

“You would know,” Hux says, glancing up with a raised eyebrow – he’d have thought she got worse.

“I get a couple,” Phasma says, slowly tipping her head back and forth. “From your viewers, too, but nothing quite this bad.”

Hux grimaces his agreement, and then glares as a _20 more results_ notification appears when he hasn’t even finished blocking these people. “How is it that simply being in the same room – “

“At 3am,” Phasma adds, raising her eyebrows pointedly. “In sleep clothes. Being called his special guest.”

Hux grinds his teeth, resisting the urge to mock her under his breath. He knows that he shouldn’t have gone over there in the middle of the night, especially after being straight-out taunted, but it wasn’t the first time he'd done something stupid because of Kylo _or_ Ren Organa from 29A. In fact, it is like the two largest strains on his sanity conveniently morphed into one infuriating being, and he’s still not sure if that means the frustration will be halved or doubled.

Already, the entire mortifying experience has cut far too much into his editing time. He barely made deadline with the last part of the walkthrough, and feels like he’s been awake for a week.

“Oh, look at that, someone thinks you’re cute,” Phasma says, reaching over Hux again and pointing out a tweet with a small, artistic addition. The image is a rather light-hearted fan art of Kylo with his head in his hands, seething if judging by the small squiggles, while Hux gently pats the top of his helmet, other hand holding a controller over his mouth to hide a smirk.

“Phasma, we’re not actually together,” Hux says, rolling his eyes hard and pressing his fingers to the middle of his brow. “Also, that is from about a year ago. I have half a mind to notify the artist.”

“Alright, ruin my fun,” Phasma sighs, expression going sullen as she glances back down toward the computer. She starts to smirk only moment later, “I still cannot believe he’s your obnoxious neighbor.”

Hux exhales heavily, returning the sentiment with his own bitterness. Ren may have only been his neighbor for six months, but Hux has been playing off and on with Kylo for _three years_. The fact that he’d stayed mute for so long is either a signal that he takes privacy far too seriously, or that he just honestly, truly dislikes Hux.

“Remember when you said his hair is as good as his personality is bad,” Phasma says, her voice lowering into a cruel sort of teasing. “Or when you stole one of his jumpers because he left it on the roof.”

“I have no proof it is his, or I would have returned it,” Hux says, glancing at her sharply and affecting a sneer. The jumper is black, hulking, and entirely too large for a normal human, so it is definitely Ren’s, but Phasma shouldn’t pretend to know any of the particulars. She definitely doesn't need to be insinuating anything, either.

The laptop starts to trill, interrupting both the conversation and the mind-numbing pattern of blocking Twitter garbage by projecting Kylo’s Skype profile over the top of the window.

“Seriously?” Phasma mutters, sighing deeply and rolling her eyes. “Lazy bastard.”

Hux taps the answer button, winding up to snap at Ren again about lying, only to find words leaving him when a helmet appears on the webcam. He glances to Phasma, watching her slowly shake her head in similar disbelief, and then nearly shuts the lid of his laptop. He’s officially tired of the nonsense that it’s been disappointing him with this morning. 

Kylo takes a breath, helmet tilting up, “Hux, I wanted to – “

“Kylo – Ren, whatever I’m meant to call you, you’re a meter away,” Hux says, interrupting him with a scoff and raising a hand to point demonstratively at his right. “Walk over here like an adult and knock.”

Kylo glances to the side, undoubtedly toward his own door, and then looks back to the webcam, “I'd rather not.”

“Do you want me to come over there?” Hux says, lowering his voice and leaning into the webcam with a glare. “I will.”

“I would love to see your apartment, Kylo,” Phasma says, raising her voice with a lofty tone and leaning over the desk to bang hard on the wall.

Hux tightens his jaw as one of the monitors shakes from the impact, and looks up to catch her eyes with a stern glare. It does little more than widen her smirk; she even seems to have half a mind to do it again.

Kylo is silent for a long few moments, then sighs so heavily it has the noise grating through his speaker. The call cuts out a moment later, which could either mean he is approaching, or that he’s going to have a little fit.

A dull thud sounds a few moments later, and that might still be either possibility, but then another, louder slam comes from Hux’s door. Shockingly, it seems he chose reason over petulance.

Phasma gives a low laugh, “You realize this is some sort of destiny.”

“Tragic coincidence,” Hux corrects with a mutter, shoving up from his chair to march toward the front door.

Ren stands on the other side, hair an absolute mess and hands shoved deep in the pockets of his dark jeans; his mouth is settled into a deep, sneering frown. “You’re a jackass.”

“And you’re a liar,” Hux says, tempted to throw the door back in Ren’s face. It would lead to nothing more than a tantrum now and then probably another at four in the morning, but it would be so satisfying.

Ren rolls his eyes, shoving past with an ungentle shoulder. “When will you get over this? It’s already old news.”

“It isn’t even old news to the Internet,” Hux says, eyes darting sideways when he catches Phasma leaving the office with his laptop in hand. He forces himself to look back to Ren, slamming the door behind him. “And _never_.”

Ren scowls, tight enough that a muscle visibly twitches at the edge of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d react well. I was right.”

“So you thought it better to lie for months?” Hux says, leaning in until he is satisfied by the undeniable flicker of remorse in Ren’s eyes. “Who were you raised by? Politicians?”

Ren stares back for an oddly long moment, then abruptly breaks eye-contact, stepping back with a clumsy shrug. “Obviously.”

Hux wants to shove him to the ground and bodily ring his neck. He should at least _act_ guilty; pretend for ten seconds that he’s more than a selfish, overgrown brat. “Well, you utter moron, it was a terrible idea.”

“No,” Ren says, rolling his eyes like a surly teenager. “Politicians. I was raised by them. _Obviously_.”

Hux glances sidelong at Phasma, slightly comforted to find that she is just as perplexed by the odd admittance. “What?”

“My mother is the Secretary of State,” Ren says, his expression losing some temper as he narrows his eyes in clear puzzlement. “Right now, anyway… We have the same last name? It's not common.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Phasma mutters, lifting a hand against her mouth as if to shield the words.

Hux rolls his eyes, but lowers his voice in return, “She handles foreign affairs. Of the entire country.”

“Ah,” Phasma intones, humming low in surprise. “How terribly important.”

“I find it hard to believe, honestly,” Hux says, raising an eyebrow as his gaze slides back to Ren. He doesn’t actually know the US Secretary of State, and Ren might have correctly assumed that shortcoming just to throw him off-guard. “I wouldn’t think such a high ranking official would allow their son to squalor themselves playing video games for a living.”

“I didn’t come here to talk about my mother!” Ren says, voice rising sharply in frustration and then abruptly falling to a quieter seething. “…This is why I wanted to do this over Skype.”

“You wanted to talk on Skype because you’re _mental_ ,” Hux says, crossing his arms and raising his chin with a glare. “So, what is it?”

Ren’s eyes flicker between Hux and Phasma, then turn out toward window and over the city as his shoulders raise near to his ears. It is so odd to reconcile the odd mannerisms of Ren with the ones of Kylo, catching the spaces in between and overlaying them together to recognize without a doubt that he is stalling.

“Well?” Hux says, quickly becoming impatient at the silence.

“I thought we could start a channel,” Ren says, turning to step in far too close and clearly attempting to loom despite the similar height; admittedly, he is terribly wide at the shoulders, which is definitely… _Something_. “Jointly. On YouTube.”

Hux frowns, drawing his eyes up to narrow them with disbelief; how did Ren’s attitude go from ‘Hux is never meant to know he is Kylo’ to ‘Hux should be bullied into a _business venture_ with Kylo’ in the space of nearly forty-eight hours? He clicks his tongue, hoping the skepticism is clear, “A team would be simpler.”

“It would be better to have something more… Official,” Ren says, biting at his lips and shoving his hands back into his pockets with a tight shrug. He is still staring at Hux, but doesn’t seem to actually be looking at him. “It could be an opportunity for revenue for the both of us. ...And Phasma, if she wants. A lot of established streamers have - well, we could still make a team, on Twitch, but – “

“I’ll be more blunt: absolutely not,” Hux says, before Ren can get any further in his stuttering proposal. The idea isn’t all that terrible, but Hux is still angry, and plans to feel that way right up to the moment he dies, bitter and vindicated. “In fact, I am thinking about never, ever playing with you again.”

Ren’s expression goes through a disturbing extent of emotion before settling on frustration, mouth twisting into a scowl. He steps back with a low huff, “Whatever. I’ll find someone else.”

“Christ, you’re both fools,” Phasma says, lifting the laptop up above her head in an obvious ploy for Ren to grab it. She still has Twitter open, and Hux really, really hopes that she’s not been answering any tweets. “What he actually means is: do you really want more of this, Kylo? Because it is horrifying.”

“Twitter?” Ren says, stiffly pulling his hands from his pockets to take the laptop with a bemused frown. “Do you actually read your YouTube comments, too?”

Hux stares for a long moment, then reaches up and rub along his brow. “I hate you. I don’t understand your fanbase at all.”

“Is the verified Kylo not you?” Phasma asks, raising an appropriately alarmed eyebrow.

“I just tweet what I’m streaming,” Ren says, barely glancing up and continuing to scroll through Hux’s Twitter. He should have handed it back the moment he saw the examples, not shamelessly kept snooping; politician’s son, indeed. “I never read mentions unless they’re mutual… Does everyone think we’re fucking?”

“Yes,” Hux says, gently twisting the computer back out of Ren’s enormous hands. He glances down at the screen as he closes the lid, resolve strengthening as he reads a few of the newer mentions.

 **[DophBoi]** @General_Hux is it really true??? D: D: D: you’re so bad for each other tho

 **[anti99s]** I hope general hux chokes on kylo’s giant dick and dies

 **[DAMNeron]** @general_hux realyy man? you been pretending to hate @kylo so we don’t know your hittingthat? I feel betrayed.

Hux is definitely going to kill that asshole at the next time he sees him.

“Is that why you don’t want to?” Ren says, pressing his lips together as his eyes dart between Hux and the laptop. "Your reputation?"

Hux inhales sharply, anger rekindling at both Ren’s persistence and his ignorance. “How tiny, exactly, is your brain? Because it must be very small for you to march over here less than – “

“He got a couple offers to return to the pro circuit when Legacy of the Void dropped, so he’s thinking about going back,” Phasma says, speaking over Hux as she stretches out on the sofa, putting her feet on the table with little care for decorum. “Not everything is about you, Ky-lo.”

Hux tightens his fists until the nails bite into his palms, and ignores Phasma’s pointed look. He wasn’t going to take any of them – the refusal to enter in a partnership with Kylo has entirely to do with…

Actually, it is probably better that Ren not know everything might be about him.

“Whatever. You won’t take them. You thought you weren’t being _challenged_ enough,” Ren says, his voice rising with disdain as his mouth folds into a sneer. “Even when you were with the Koreans.”

Hux narrows his eyes, irritation fading as an odd thrill goes through him at the sound of his _own quote_ being thrown back at him. “Did you Google me?”

“No,” Ren scoffs, eyes flitting around Hux and then, once again, to the window. He makes it seem like there is something out there besides the greying sky; perhaps it’s his dignity.

“What would you even call it?” Phasma asks, tilting her head to the side with a dry smirk. “Cloud City Apartments Gaming?”

“Absolutely not,” Ren growls, expression twisting up in an almost repulsed sort of rejection. He crosses his arms, hands clutching at his own elbows as he hardens his voice like he needs to make the point clearer, “Living here is bad enough. I refuse to publicly be associated with it.”

“Slight overreaction,” Hux says, slowly raising an eyebrow and ignoring the familiar impulse to scold Ren for temper. Why on earth did he buy the place if the mere name puts him in hysterics? “But using the building would be stupid. We’d find out how eccentric the owner really is in about a week, when he arrived to sue us.”

“More like the opposite, knowing him…” Ren mutters, only to trail off as he takes a short, surprised breath. His eyes go wide and focus abruptly on Hux, “Are you saying yes?”

“Are you a moron?” Hux says, immediately forcing his lips into a flat, mocking sneer. “The only thing I’ve agreed with is that Phasma is stupid.”

Ren hums low, “No, you’re agreeing.”

“I said _absolutely not_.”

~

“The ‘First Order’?” Dameron says, rolling his eyes. “That’s not pretentious.”

“I’m sorry, did your little group recently change its name?” Hux says, sneering back with a narrow glare, “Because if a scale existed for pretention, the Resistance would be a ten.”

“Sir?” Mitaka asks, raising a hand meekly as he picks up a bag of pears. “Um, do you want paper or plastic?”

“The reusable ones are right on the bottom, if you bothered to look,” Hux says, rolling his eyes and leaning down to grab them himself, slapping them down on the belt with a scowl. “And you had better remember the discount.”

“You could be a little nicer,” Dameron mutters, shoving into Hux’s space to address Mitaka over the card scanner.  “Sorry about him, he’s an ass.”

Mitaka shakes his head. “It’s okay, it would be weird if he were nice.”

Dameron blinks, then raises his eyebrows, “What?”

“It means he’s authentic,” Mitaka says, finally showing his (vaguely disturbing) colors as he raises his head to smile brightly at Dameron. He’s something of a fan, the kind that once gave $5 tips every fifteen minutes for three hours, and Hux is a little worried he might be a stalker, but not enough to switch super markets. “General Hux checks out here every Tuesday after he broadcasts, and getting to see him in person is the best part of the week.”

Hux sighs, sliding his bags over one arm and pocketing his wallet. “We don’t need to publicize everything, Mitaka.”

“The _same_  time and day every week? You have just reached soaring new levels of neurotic,” Dameron says, slamming his single item, a 24-pack of RedBull, on the counter and holding out a card. “I bet the First Order project collapses after a week of your micromanaging.”

“I bet you get liver cancer,” Hux says, as spitefully as one possibly can while shoving a receipt into a bag of vegetables.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I was going to make this (chapter 2) a completely different story in a series, but then I decided it better served as an additional element to the set-up of the universe, so felt it would instead be more fitting to act as another chapter of the previous story.
> 
> I guess.
> 
> Also, I hope the format of the tweets isn't irritating. I tried to figure out something that was simple, but obvious.

**Author's Note:**

> SO. I actually posted this about two months ago on my tumblr, but I recently revisited it and started writing another (mostly unrelated) part, and now it's like 6am the next day, so I'm posting it, and we'll see if I delete it. 
> 
> I'm not sure if it will be a series, or a bunch of unrelated chapters on a single post. 
> 
> Also, I was going to call their company Starkiller Gaming, but... It's taken by an actual person. It might end up just being FirstOrder_Gaming.


End file.
